An Anniversary of Sorts

Today is 2Nov. And it is the 3rd anniversary of my very first appointment with an RE. I remember the feelings so vividly surrounding that first appointment. It had been a rough few months. We had been fighting a lot. I was ready to call it quits and move to adoption. I was ready to get off the rollercoaster. We still didn't have a diagnosis. And we fully expected to be able to conceive by having sex. I think about this now and I laugh. In what twisted world does sex make a baby? Babies are made in doctors offices. Or come from adoption agencies. My expectations were so very high. I was 24 and healthy. Why shouldn't I be able to make a baby? I had been trying to make a baby for almost two years, month after month, all to no avail. It was so disheartening. August was the worst month. I was so ready for a baby. I started doing adoption research and Paul was not on board at all. He was still so filled with hope which felt like a slap in the face to me. I don't know if he couldn't see how much I was hurting but I felt so very alone. In September things started coming together. We stopped fighting and started talking about how to move forward. We agreed to move forward with both. I would agree to see a specialist. And he would attend an adoption class. I don't remember the exact day but my uncle died sometime the week of 4October. I was so very torn. His funeral was scheduled for the day of our adoption class. We elected to stay in Albuquerque and go to the adoption class. The adoption class was scheduled for 16October and going was one of the best decisions we have ever made. We left that class so much more in tune. So much more connected. And as luck would have it I happened to be ovulating. Fast forward a week and a half. Our appointment with the RE was scheduled for 2November. That was an overwhelming appointment if I've ever had one. In September, I had seen my new GYN. She felt something "cystic" in my abdomen and the decision was made to just keep an eye on it the next few months via u/s. The first u/s confirmed a cyst on my ovary 7mm across. Not insignificant and the woman was silly enough to think it was just a just an ovulatory cyst. HA! At my appointment the doctor ushered me in, sent me back to an exam room and did an u/s immediately. Not five minutes later, we had a diagnosis. And fifteen minutes later we had a plan. I had endometriosis. This was NOT an ovulatory cyst. I needed to schedule surgery. And I needed to do it quickly. By this point the cyst was now 10mm in diameter and was in danger of twisting and cutting off the blood supply to my ovary. I called my GYN on the way home, left a message for her that we needed to schedule surgery. I happened to be in school this semester and Wednesday I made all the arrangements to miss two weeks of school. And Friday night I started thinking about the lack of my period. And like all good infertiles pulled a HPT out from under my bathroom cabinet. And to my very great shock it was positive. I will never forget running into the other room, shouting at Paul, "There are two lines! There are two lines!" And him asking me if that was good or bad. Oy! We lost that pregnancy five very short weeks later.

Three years later I look back and reflect on that week with new appreciation for my husband, amusement at my lack of knowledge and the sense of relief that I had to finally know that the infertility was not some figment of my imagination. If I were to really dig deep I knew that it would be some time before we would experience success but looking back I wouldn't change a thing. We needed each and every one of the obstacles that we have overcome the last five years. And we are better because of them. Thanks for bearing with me through this very odd post.